


Astray

by SCFox



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFox/pseuds/SCFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After talking to Varric in DA:I I started wondering just what Isabela and F!Hawke's relationship would be like...and this sort of appeared because some of the answers seemed really amusing to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Astray

Hawke had no idea what time it was whilst she sat at her desk, writing a letter to Bethany. She knew it was late, as she had burned down a few candles since retreating, and Bodahn had discreetly been filling up her glass over that time. She didn’t really know how to speak to her sister since their mother had died. She knew her little sister blamed her for being imprisoned in the Circle. Hawke personally blamed that meddling Templar, Cullen. She’d written and rewritten the same few paragraphs several times. Eventually she gave up with a disgruntled huff and threw all the screwed up parchment in the bin. She needed a distraction, and thankfully one arrived just in time. There was a hesitant knock at the door, the only other people in the house were Bodahn and Sandal, and she knew it wouldn’t be Sandal.

“Come in Bodahn,” she called, grateful to see the dwarf who had taken it upon himself to be her butler, of sorts.  
“Lady Hawke. I apologise for being a bother, but I believe your assistance may be required next door.”  
Hawke raised an eyebrow, “Next door?”  
“Indeed. Master Tethras stopped by with a message, but left before I could even tell you he was here.”

He passed over a small folded note, and Hawke glanced at it.

_Hawke,_

_Rivaini’s at it again. Wooing the lady in the estate next to yours from what I can tell. Think her husband might be heading home early from The Hanged Man. There’s a wall connecting your properties, if you can bring yourself to bail the wench out._

_Varric._

Hawke sighed, screwing up the letter. She should be used to this kind of thing by now, the number of scrapes she’d had to get the self professed Pirate Queen out of. She smirked slightly remembering one or two of them. She’d chosen a real cracker to spend her time with. She turned to the dwarf who was still waiting for a response.

“I’m heading out to the garden for some air Bodahn. I shan’t be long.”  
“Very well M’Lady.”  
“Bodahn?”  
“Yes M’Lady?”  
“If anyone should ask. I’ve been in my room the whole time.”  
“Of course, M’Lady.”

Bodahn bowed and exited, whilst Hawke went to her room and pulled her outdoor clothes and boots on. She swiftly headed out of her balcony door, and clambered down the railings and wall. She was led to the right side by angry shouting and some kind of commotion.

“I’ll teach you to lead my wife astray you filthy whore!”

Hawke winced. Of all the neighbours she could have pissed off, Isabela just _had_ to pick the one that was grumpy and mean and nobody liked. In a swift movement she found footholds in her wall above a rose bush and clambered up, crouching on the top. The light from the house next door showed a barefoot figure shooting out of a window and across the gardens, followed by crossbow bolts whizzing passed her. At one point she tripped and Hawke held her breath, but there was no greater motivation for getting up and out of there as an arrow causing a breeze near your ear.

“Isabela, here!” hissed Hawke as her friend came nearer.  
“Hawke?”  
“No, it’s Sparrow.” Isabela grinned, she could hear the woman’s expression in her voice.

Moments later Isabela had hooked herself onto the neighbour’s wall, bushes pulling at her hair and clothes, towards the hand that reached out. She grabbed it and swung onto the top, almost knocking Hawke over. Luckily their professions and experience made them both pretty sure footed. Hawke jumped down, landing neatly, as a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wall just where her head had been. She gulped, and turned to her friend.

“Careful, it’s…” too late, Isabela hadn’t waited a second before leaping down, and Hawke squirmed on her behalf as she saw her ankle turn under her, and she ended up on her knees…”Higher than you think…”  
“Ouch! Sonofa!” Isabela’s voice trailed off into a series of colourful curses.  
“Maker’s breath Rivaini!” muttered Hawke, hoisting the woman to her feet and catching her around the waist. “Did you seriously leave your underwear in that poor woman’s room?”  
Isabela shrugged, “I didn’t have much time.”

Lucky for them, the angered husband had given up the chase as soon as the guilty party was out of sight. She imagined what a sight they made. A pantless, bootless, pirate in a fit of giggles as she half-hobbled, half got carried, towards Hawke’s balcony, and an exasperated, self-made noble still sore from almost being shot in the head. With a bit of awkwardness, mostly on the part of Isabela limping and shaking with laughter, the pair of them managed to scramble into Hawke’s chambers.

“Alright,” said Hawke, plonking Isabela on the edge of the bed, the woman had been laughing so much tears were streaming down her face. “Let’s have a look at you.”  
Isabela gave a coy smile, “If you insist.”

Hawke clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, before getting Bodahn to bring her some warm water and a cloth. He didn’t even blink at the sudden appearance of Isabela in his Mistress’ room. It was not his place, and he knew the pair had some sort of arrangement, though it was clear to nobody but them what it was. Isabela looked on rather amused as Hawke went about cleaning up the various cuts and bruises one got from hightailing it out of a house and through an overgrown garden in the middle of the night.

“Awh, Hawkey. You take such good care of me.”  
"Well _you_ hardly do yourself any favours,” scolded Hawke lightly.  
“I don’t need to when I’ve got you.”  
“What am I? Your lady in waiting?”  
“If you’re in to that kind of thing…”

Hawke shook her head, exasperated, but a smile played across her lips. She frowned slightly as she got to Isabela’s ankle. It was already bruised, and she gently rotated it. Isabela bit her lip to stop from wincing. Deciding it wasn’t broken, at least, Hawke bound it up best she could. She’d probably have to call Anders out in the morning for a favour, but it was better than nothing. The pair frowned as they heard shouting downstairs, and even Isabela had the decency to go pale when they recognised the voice.

“Sir! This is most improper!” came the protests of Bodahn,  
“Where is she?! Where is your Mistress?!” It was the grumpy neighbour, and it sounded like he was coming upstairs.  
“She’s in her chambers Sir, like she has been all night! This really isn’t a good time.”  
"Shit!” exlaimed Hawke, “He must have drunk even more than normal. Quick, bite my neck!”  
“Is now _really_ the time?” Isabela raised an eyebrow.  
“Gotta make it look believable,” shrugged the woman.

With a tactile ruffling of hair, a purplish-red mark on her neck, and a quick change of clothes into just a crumpled shirt, Isabela realised where Hawke was going with this, as there was an angry knock on the door.

“Lady Hawke! I demand you let me in!”  
“Sir, I’m a little...occupied at the moment?”

Hawke nodded at Isabela and pinched her own cheeks to redden them, as she walked to the door, she looked every inch the woman who’d just been caught in an intimate moment, and Isabela adored the genius of the plan. The neighbour would be completely thrown. The statement stood true, as Hawke, putting on her best huffy expression, opened the door.

“Sir Hankin, this is really most inappropriate. Do you have any idea what time it is? What’s so important that you dare barge in to _my_ house and verbally abuse _my_ servant? The Guard Captain will hear of this intrusion! Unacceptable.”

He compeltely fell for it, and Isabela was mighty proud of her Hawke’s acting ability. Hankin blushed scarlet at the state of the young woman, who had deliberately left enough buttons open for him to see her chest, enough to fluster any uptight, middle-aged noble. He was completely speechless.

“I, uhm...apologise. I must have been...mistaken…I thought...the Rivaini…”  
“You mean the one who’s company I’ve been in all night?” challenged Hawke.

Isabela wandered over, ignoring the pain in her ankle to put on her usual swagger. She draped herself over Hawke, and Hankin’s face was a picture. Hawke ran her fingers through the woman’s hair, as she kissed her neck, just to make him even more uncomfortable, if that was possible.

“Must have been...someone else...I cannot, apologise enough.”  
“Next time you wish to speak to me, a decent hour can be arranged with Master Bodahn. Good night, Sir Hankin. I have things to attend to.”

She shut the door in his face, and pressed her ear to it until he heard him reach the bottom of the steps. She sighed with relief and flattened her back against the wood, rubbing her temples to ease the headache that was starting to kick in.

“I swear Isabela. One day, your cooch is going to get us killed.”  
Isabela laughed out loud, amazed and impressed by Hawke’s bluntness, “What a way to go that would be.”

Hawke headed back over to her bed, lending a shoulder to Isabela so she could do the same, and helped her down, as she was about to pull away, the pirate grabbed the front of her shirt and kissed her, working her fingertips under the fabric.

“You are _impossible_ ,” replied Hawke when she let her breathe again.  
“Don’t be a spoil sport. That maniac got home so quick I didn’t even have time to finish.”  
“Well isn’t that a shame?” teased the short-haired woman with a twinkle in her eye.  
“You’re not really going to leave a girl hanging are you?”  
“Keep doing what you’re doing and you can do a pretty effective job of that yourself.”  
“You know you wouldn’t have me any other way.”  
Hawke gave a wry smile, “And I’ve had you in many ways…”  
Isabela grinned and nimbly undid the rest of the buttons on her shirt, “There are plenty of others.”  
Hawke shrugged, “Who can resist a harlot with scraped knees?”

With that, she pushed Isabela backwards and smirked down at her, deciding she was rather pleased certain items of clothing had been left behind.


End file.
